


Charm Offensive

by frackin_sweet



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Arranged Marriage, Attempt at Humor, Founding of Konoha, M/M, betrothal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frackin_sweet/pseuds/frackin_sweet
Summary: The First Hokage has a great idea about how to further cement the tenuous peace between Senju and Uchiha.





	Charm Offensive

“There has got to be another solution.”

“There is not.”

“Find one!” Tobirama Senju draws himself up to his full height and bristles down at his still-seated brother.

Hashirama stands and leans across the desk so he can get right back in Tobirama’s face. “This is the perfect solution. We are going to maintain peace in the oldest way, with a marriage between clans.”

“The oldest way would be by winning a war.”

“This is the oldest way that actually results in more people alive rather than less.”

“The Uchiha will never agree to the terms.”

“They already have.”

Since a rogue wave in the middle of the Hokage’s office seems an overly-dramatic response, Tobirama drops heavily into a chair. His brother is the Senju clan head and the elected leader of Konoha. Every scrap of Tobirama’s prodigious sense of duty ensures that he will do as ordered. “And I suppose you have my spouse-to-be all picked out?”

Hashirama smiles beatifically. “I knew you’d come around. This is a good idea, Tobi, you’ll see! And you’ll like your betrothed! I insisted that your eclectic tastes be taken into consideration!

“Just get it over with and tell me.”

“Oh, no, not before the official betrothal celebration.” Hashirama checks the time. “You really should get going so you have time to bathe and dress. Full formal attire, please.”

“Count yourself lucky if I don’t wear a grain sack.” And even luckier still if he’s not drunk as a skunk, because that’s going to be the only way his betrothal feast is going to be bearable.

“And leave your sword at home!”

Never mind, probably not going to be bearable at all.

*

Tobirama Senju is normally a temperate man, but...he may have had a few by the time he shows up at the celebration. He is not drunk. He is appropriately bathed and formally dressed, as requested. Sword at home. Not drunk. And it’s not as though the phalanx of dark-robed Uchiha glowering at one end of the banquet hall wouldn’t render a person stone-cold sober anyway.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” he hears one of them attempt to whisper. “I wish he’d worn the fur thing.”

“How is someone even that pale?” 

“I thought he’d be taller.” Now they’re not even bothering to comment quietly.

“Senju.” Flat, loud, irritable. Wouldn’t know an honorific if it slapped him in the face, that would be Madara Uchiha. “You’re late.”

“But it’s fine, fine!” Hashirama sweeps over with his wife in tow, probably hoping to lend some civility to the proceedings. “Brother, I’m glad you’ve finally joined us. As are our friends.” 

“Who?”

Hashirama makes a gracious gesture that includes the Uchiha contingent, then starts waxing poetic about filial piety and marriage bonds and the gods only know what, and Tobirama realizes more alcohol is in order.

He takes two small cups from the tray of a passing servant, downs one immediately and puts it back on the tray. “Stay here.”

His sister-in-law gives him a concerned look. “Tobirama. This isn’t like you.”

“Well, getting forcibly married is not like me either, so.” Tobirama raises the other cup respectfully in her direction before emptying it as well, putting it back and taking two more. “You may go now,” he dismisses the servant with further instructions. “Refills. Then come back.”

Hashirama makes several polite excuses to the assembled guests, then grabs him by the arm.

“Watch it, I don’t want to spill.” Not before the refills show up, if he can help it.

Hashirama marches him several paces away. His eye is starting to twitch, which is never a good sign. “Look, Tobirama. A lot of work went into putting this together. I am not going to let you screw it up with that attitude.”

“I beg your pardon? This is a feast, and I am availing myself of refreshment, as is customary at feasts.”

“Avail a little less enthusiastically before I have to carry you to meet your betrothed!”

There is really no way to make any of this less painful. Suddenly the thought that he’s actually going to have to _marry an Uchiha_ sinks in, and he realizes that battle might be preferable.

Since it’s not an option (he did leave his sword at home), he does what is expected of him as the dutiful younger brother, and sucks it up. “Fine. I’m fine.” He sinks the contents of one of his cups, but in deference to Hashirama’s look of barely-contained irritation, sets the other carefully down on a table undrunk. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Hopefully your betrothed enjoys the smell of a distillery,” Hashirama grouses, but he pastes his usual bright smile on and steers Tobirama back towards the gathering of Uchiha.

Madara steps forward. He and Hashirama go through some requisite exchange of traditional betrothal language that sounds like a serious crock of shit. While he listens, Tobirama scans the attendees for his likely spouse-to-be. An air of quiet desperation would be a dead giveaway, but so far everybody seems in relatively good spirits. Apparently the sake has been flowing for some time.

At last his brother gestures him forward. The grip on his shoulder is a little harsh, but Hashirama could hardly be blamed for thinking he might bolt. There is some commotion behind the milling Uchiha, and another person is finally ushered forth.

Tobirama looks down. Curly dark hair, and the ink-black eyes that are the stamp of Clan Uchiha. A friendly smile, which is patently...not. 

“Hello, Tobirama-sensei,” says Kagami Uchiha.

It takes all of Tobirama’s vaunted self-control to not react as Kagami’s hand is placed in his, and the two clan heads give their blessings (Madara while clenching his jaw hard enough to probably crack a tooth). Then there is an exchange of gifts that Tobirama feels like he should have been briefed on ahead of time - a clamshell, hemp rope, and something with an ancestral Uchiha fan that he’s pretty sure goes awry. And money, which is at least welcome.

“Sensei,” Kagami whispers as they’re finally being seated for the feast. “Are you all right?”

Tobirama stifles a belch. It seems for the toasts they have progressed to larger drinking vessels. “I...am well enough.” It’s all he can manage.

“Oh...well…that’s good.” Kagami leans closer. “I think we’re supposed to feed each other sips of sake now, and then people can start the meal. It’s the traditional thing.” Kagami helps steer the bowl in their shared grasp, to minimize spillage. The sipping is successful, and the meal commences.

“Please, excuse me.” Tobirama gets up abruptly and grabs his brother. “We need to talk.”

“What is it _now_?” Hashirama says when they’re finally out of earshot of the guests. “Don’t even try to tell me you’re not pleased.”

“Pleased?” Tobirama clenches his fists. “That boy was one. Of. My. _Students_.”

Hashirama’s voice goes up an octave in his enthusiasm. “I know! I remember! Your favorite Uchiha, you called him!”

“I have never in my _life_ had a favorite Uchiha.” People are starting to turn and stare, so Tobirama makes a great effort to lower his voice. “This is highly....inappropriate.”

“I fail to see why it would be. All of the customs have been properly observed.” Hashirama’s smile takes on a smug quality. “Would it surprise you to know that he volunteered to take on this particular role, as your betrothed, and the one to foster continued peace between our clans?”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true! He made his willingness very clear during the negotiations.”

There were _negotiations?_ Tobirama doesn’t let his outrage distract him from making his point. “We have a significant age difference.”

“That’s not uncommon in marriage.” Hashirama waves off this concern. “Brother, Kagami may have been one of your students, but that was years ago, and he’s no longer a boy. He’s an adult jonin with a well-established reputation. Several shinobi have vouched for his abilities and his good judgement.” He looks at someone over Tobirama’s shoulder and nods. “We need to return to the feast now. I suggest you talk to him, after. Perhaps he can convince you.”

Tobirama glowers, finally silent. He lets himself be led back to the seat next to his intended. 

Kagami turns to look at him. “Sensei?”

Tobirama takes a deep breath. “Kagami, don’t call me that. Betrothed people use each others’ personal names, from my understanding.” He looks over at his intended. “And I need to speak with you. As soon as the feast is over.”

They are served several delicious dishes, many of which contain food consecrated earlier at the shrine in honor of the betrothal. Of course this process is very dignified and unhurried, and thus takes forever. It is excruciating.

Finally he can’t take it anymore. “Kagami. Walk with me in the gardens.”

When Kagami gets up to follow, Madara stands and stops him. “Typically, you need to have a chaperone in order to be alone with your...betrothed.” He says the word as though it tastes bad.

“Typically, you can go fuck yourself,” Tobirama replies calmly. “My _betrothed_ and I are going outside to have a civilized, private conversation, on a path fully visible from the windows.” 

“What he means to say, Madara-sama, is that typically, a chaperone is only necessary when an intended spouse’s virginity is a consideration, and in my case, well...I mean...I don’t think that...please excuse me, I need to go now!”

Tobirama waits for Kagami to catch up with him. “He acts like he thinks I’m going to drag you under the footbridge and have my way with you,” he growls.

“It’s a little too muddy under there for comfort,” Kagami replies automatically, and then freezes in place when Tobirama gives him a look. “What I mean to say, is -”

“Just stop talking.”

The gardens are purple with twilight, swirling with the last autumn leaves. A chill hints at snow by morning. It helps clear Tobirama's head just a bit.

“I am not sure I understand it,” he says after a long moment of consideration.

Kagami turns to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Why you’re so pleasant. Because everyone else in your clan is a peevish malcontent.”

Instead of being insulted, Kagami smiles widely. “The pleasant one is my role.” His cheeks no longer have the childhood roundness Tobirama remembers, but they do still dimple appealingly. “They keep me around for when they need a charm offensive.”

“To put the enemy off their guard.”

“Exactly!”

“Am I about to be assassinated?” Tobirama says it to continue what feels, to him, like banter, but when Kagami’s face falls immediately, he realizes that he has misjudged. “That was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“My apologies. I am inexperienced with humor,” Tobirama replies honestly. “And I may be slightly drunk. Or considerably drunk.”

“For the most part, you hide it well. I would say I hadn’t noticed, but as a shinobi, I do have highly developed powers of observation.” Kagami’s lip curls again slightly. “And a sharingan.”

“If you needed the sharingan to tell you I was drunk, then you probably need to work on those powers of observation. I’d ask what they were teaching you at the Academy, but as I developed the curriculum, I know that was part of it.”

“Sussing out drunk people wasn’t part of it.”

“No, usually one learns that through later experience.” They pause their stroll on the wooden footbridge. Moonlight, white and aloof, shimmers on the pond. 

Tobirama turns to his betrothed. Kagami is elegant in midnight-blue kimono; perhaps he should make an attempt at a chivalrous compliment, as would be appropriate and perhaps ease further conversation. 

“You look good.” Oh well. Chivalry is for the weak. “Formal attire suits you.”

Kagami smiles and looks up. “Thank you. I’m glad you think so. Putting it on was so complicated I had to have my cousins help me dress.”

Tobirama hears himself grunt. “Did they insist on hiding some weapons in there as they fastened you up?”

“I could have worn a ceremonial blade, but I didn’t want to.” Kagami’s hands stray to the intricate folds of his clothing. “There _is_ a hidden traditional item, but you’re not supposed to find out about that until we’re actually married.” He ducks his head, but not before a blush visible even in the moonlight stains his cheeks.

Ugh, why does Kagami have to go and be _attractive_ , of all the damned things? After the stress of the evening, it’s disarming. Tobirama does not need to be disarmed at the moment. _Focus_. Traditional wedding-night items on Kagami’s person are not acceptable visual imagery right now. “Why?”

“Wh...why the thing? that’s on my...it’s...I shouldn’t…” 

“Why did you agree to this betrothal?” There. Direct and unavoidable. “My brother already told me you volunteered. I want to know why.”

Kagami takes a deep breath. “I can remember being taught by you at the Academy - you probably weren’t much older than I am now - but you would loom over me all stern and forbidding and I’d wonder if all the stories I heard at home were true. Stories about the Senju, I mean...your brother, he was just always Madara’s legendary rival, but you...you were this demon - red eyes, bloody sword - ”

“None of that is any kind of reason to get betrothed to someone.”

“Isn’t it?” Kagami looks for all the world as though he’s given the best possible reasons to commit to someone forever. “It wasn’t like that to me. To me, you were brilliant, and beautiful, and all I ever wanted at the end of the day was for you to tell me I had done well.”

“You thought I was beautiful,” Tobirama says flatly.

“To be fair, I also thought myself quite the poet at ten.” Kagami dimples again. “You were insanely tall and broad-shouldered...I can remember falling in the river during training one day.” His eyes take on dreamy, faraway expression. “You lifted me out with one hand like I was a puppy.”

Well. _That’s_ not psychosexually complex at all, and in no way is he sober enough to think about any of it. “So you’re still under the influence of a childhood crush, is what you’re saying.”

“No! I mean, yes, in the sense that, do I still think you’re really beautiful and broad-shouldered and probably could still throw me around - “

More very dangerous imagery. “Kagami -”

Kagami turns to him quickly. “Tobirama, I just want -” and his foot slips, losing traction on the bridge’s delicate scrim of ice. In an instant he pitches towards the water below, and Tobirama grabs his wrist. Without thinking, he reels Kagami in and anchors him with an arm around his waist.

“Did I say like a puppy?” Kagami gasps, his eyes huge.

“And about as subtle.” If he were to be honest, it takes some effort to hang onto Kagami, and neither of them are breathing easily. “Just tell me why.”

Kagami’s throat works hard on a swallow. “Because, yes. I had a crush on you then. And it didn’t go away. I like you. I’d give anything to...be with you, whatever that means. And the clan has been pushing me to marry. So - “

“So you volunteered.”

“Of course I volunteered.” He closes his eyes, bites his lip. “I’m sorry this all started out the way it did. I begged to be allowed to talk to you ahead of time, but I got shouted down.”

Tobirama snorts. He can guess who was doing the shouting, so that would have been a losing battle at best. They haven’t moved, bodies still pressed up against each other. He lets himself look down into Kagami’s earnest face. 

“And I’m sorry if that seemed like duplicity. It’s not, I promise you,” Kagami whispers. “We can break the betrothal if you want.”

“I don’t want to.” The words come out so easily and simply that Tobirama is surprised it’s his voice saying them. “I accept your explanation.”

The smile Kagami gives him is far brighter than the full moon, and much, much warmer. Then he reaches up to pull Tobirama’s face down to his.

But the bridge is still slippery, and this time the movement of their kiss causes both of them start to lose their footing. Kagami makes a soft noise and grabs hold of him firmly, anchoring both of them in place. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against Tobirama’s lips.

“Yes. It would seem that you have.”

*

Hashirama pauses over the deck of cards. “What is it now? You’ve beaten me at three games.” He indicates the tabletop, now covered with coins, a few pieces of tasteful jewelry, and a deed to some ancestral Senju land in the south of Fire Country. “Let’s go for best five out of seven.”

He can see the moonlight-bathed silhouette of the two people still intensely involved with each other in the gardens behind Madara’s head, so it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep him playing.

Madara contemplates his winnings and drums his fingers on the table. “Unless you plan to wager your house, I’m not sure you have the resources for another game.” Then he makes a disgusted noise. “It’s late, Hashirama, and I know what’s going on.”

Hashirama freezes in the process of searching for more coin. “You....do?”

“That crass display in the gardens?” His lip curls slightly. “Yes.”

“And you’re not going to...shout, or throw things, or something?”

Madara calls one of the remaining Uchiha to his side, and gestures the yawning man to scoop the contents of the tabletop into a pouch. Then he stands abruptly and turns towards the door. “As I said, it’s late, Hashirama. I’ll send a messenger with the clan’s wedding requirements.”

Hashirama gives a stilted bow as they leave. “I think that went rather well,” his wife comments from behind him.

Mouth agape, Hashirama nods. “I suppose it did.”

_\--End_

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Oh look, characters who interact visibly like once in canon  
> Also Me: HELLO NEW OTP 
> 
> Uh, unbetaed, rambling, and I have no idea how even fictional betrothal customs work? Creative license, yay!
> 
> Thanks for reading this ridiculousness!


End file.
